


Spy Kids

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Romance, Single Parents, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson takes his son to school, only to see a familiar face in the playground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spy Kids

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD, its characters or settings. All belongs to Marvel and ABC. 
> 
> I was going to put this in my Agents of Prompts collection, but I decided to hedge my bets and put this as a separate fic. Really, at this length, it can’t really be counted as a mini fic. I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Phil Coulson lay in bed, listening to the sounds of his family sleep. He smiled, glancing for a moment towards his unset alarm, before he pushed aside the covers. He was usually showered and dressed by six thirty; out the door by seven. His Mom would get Stevie up and ready for school, make his breakfast and pack his lunch. But not today.

There was no mission to be prepped for, no agents to be debriefed. Today, Agent Phil Coulson was making _pancakes._

Phil padded down to the kitchen; stifling a yawn as he eased out the ingredients and utensils he would need to make breakfast. He closed the fridge, milk in hand, before taking a moment to look at the front of the fridge. Crayon scribbles of Captain America; pencil drawings of their family. There were photographs stuck up from Stevie’s last trip to the zoo, and homework assignments pinned with _great job_ written in blue. Phil’s chest heaved, sighing as he saw his son’s childhood pass him by. 

“Hello stranger.”

Phil looked up from the fridge, smiling at the sudden appearance of his mother. “Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t get much sleep these days. Thought you’d be out the door already.”

“I got a couple of days off. Thought I’d take Stevie into school.” Phil opened up the fridge again, plucking out a carton. “Juice?”

“Please.”

Phil poured his mother a glass of OJ before making himself one. His mother settled herself at the kitchen island, watching her son prepare the pancake batter. He couldn’t quite remember the last time they’d shared a meal together. Things had been so busy at SHIELD, especially with the advent of the Avengers Initiative. There had been more and more operations that Fury only trusted to a select few. Breakfasts and dinners and trips to the park had fallen by the wayside. 

His mother didn’t speak again until he poured the first batch of batter into the pan. “You know, I can handle Stevie, Phil. You didn’t need to take some time off.”

“I know you can, Mom,” Phil said, watching the batter bubble. “You’re great with him. I just wanted to spend a little more time with my son, that’s all.”

“Well alright.” She smiled over the rim of her glass. “He’ll be thrilled you’re taking him to school. He tells all his friends about his amazing Daddy.”

As if on cue, Phil heard the sound of eager footsteps through the ceiling. Soon, a small face appeared staring down the back staircase. Phil caught his son’s gaze, giving his son a smile and a wave. Stevie burst into a grin, leaping down the rest of the stairs and into his father’s side. Phil held his son close, squeezing him tight with his free arm. 

“Morning, Stevie. Sleep well, kiddo?”

His son nodded, his mop of brown hair bouncing. “I did. You’re making breakfast!”

“I am. I’m also taking you into school. Now, take a seat, and I’ll get you your pancakes.”

Stevie pulled himself up onto one of the stools beside his grandmother, gripping his plate in expectation. Phil did a cute flip of the frying pan, beaming as his son’s eyes widened in amazement. Soon there was a small stack of pancakes on his son’s plate, and the ten year old was digging into them with gusto. 

Phil had missed these moments. Quiet time with his family. He watched his son scrape his knife across the plate, stuff too much pancake into his mouth. Stevie was just as liberal with the syrup as Phil had been at that age. His own stack of pancakes lay unattended; too busy watching his son. _He needs a haircut,_ Phil thought to himself. _When did he get so many freckles?_

 _“_ Hey, Dad, can we take Lola into school today?”

“Sure, don’t see why not.” Phil took a bite when he caught his mother watching him. “You want to get washed up and ready for school, pal? Don’t want to be late.”

Stevie nodded, wiping his syrup stained mouth with his pyjama sleeve before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back!”

Both Phil and his mother watched as the ten year old raced upstairs. They heard the bang of his knees colliding with the floor as his excitement overwhelmed him. Phil was happy his son was so excited to spend time with him. But as he loaded up the dishwasher, his shoulder’s sagged. His father making breakfast, taking him to school, shouldn’t be a special event. 

A pinch to his elbow brought him back to reality. “I know what you’re thinking, and _stop it._ You have to work, Phil.”

“I know, I know.” Phil fingered the drawings pinned to the fridge. “I just feel I’m missing so much.” 

“Well maybe you could ease back on the conferences. But you put food on the table, and you make that boy smile. You’re doing _fine_.” 

Not for the first time, Phil was glad that his mother had moved from Wisconsin to Washington D.C. to help take care of Stevie. If anyone understood his predicament, it was her. “Thanks Mom.”

His mother beamed at him, pressing both hands to his cheeks and laying a kiss on his forehead. Then she busied herself with the morning paper, sipping a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Phil packed a lunch for Stevie, making sure his son had a healthy brown bag for the middle of the day. He started making peanut butter sandwiches, taking a moment to glance towards his mother for her approval. _Good. He still loves PB & J. _

With breakfast done and lunch made, Phil went upstairs to change out of the baggy pants and old _Captain America_ t-shirt he slept in. Jeans and a buttoned down shirt would do. He felt like he was undercover as _Cool Dad Phil_ rather than Agent Coulson. His fingers spent five minutes adjusting the collar, unused to the absence of a tie. 

“Hey, Mom,” Phil called out as he walked back downstairs, still fiddling with his collar. “Anything I need to know about the school? It’s been a while since I’ve been there.”

“Not that I can think of.”

He smiled. “Good. Well I’ll take Stevie to school, then I’ll go to the grocery store. Anything you need?”

“Coffee filters, we used the last of ‘em this morning.” 

Phil grinned, making a mental note, before pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was reading the foreign affairs section of the paper, and Phil caught a small box of newsprint reporting on his operation two days before. Embassy party, attempted assassination... _yadda yadda yadda._ His family thought he worked as an insurance adjuster for a major firm. If he was going to be playing _Cool Dad Phil_ more often, he would need to brush up on his sales pitch.

 _“Oh,_ that reminds me...keep away from Stacy Thomas. She keeps asking me if you’re still single.”

Phil choked. “Not another set up,  _please,_ Mom, not another set up.”

“I told her that between work and Stevie, you’re not looking to date.” Phil huffed out a sigh of relief. Stacy Thomas, a mother at Stevie’s school, had been trying to set him up with every single friend she had since his son had enrolled in Kindergarten. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to date, Phil. Stevie is ten.”

“I know, _I know_.”

Stevie had been three months old when Marcus Daniels had escaped from the Fridge. His son would never know his mother. He would never get to hear her play, nor would he ever see their happy home in Portland. He’d tried dating after Audrey. Soft spoken neighbours; set ups from his mother’s friends. But no one - not until _her_ \- had ever given him a second thought. 

“There is the possibility of someone,” Phil said, throwing his mother a bone. “But it’s complicated.”

His mother closed the paper, her full attention now on him. “Who is it?”

“She’s someone I’ve seen at conferences, work events. She works at a rival insurance firm. Her name’s Melinda.”

His mother beamed, as if he’d just announced his intention to marry. In reality, Phil wasn’t even sure if that was her real name. _Agent Melinda May._ CIA specialist; an expert in hand to hand combat. Beautiful, deadly, funny too. They’d worked together on joint operations; they’d been on opposite sides of life and death missions. On their last encounter, only a few days before during that embassy assassination, the sexual tension between them seemed to reach breaking point. At one point, Phil was _sure_ they were going to kiss. 

Then someone had taken a shot at the Ambassador and he didn’t see her again. 

“ _Melinda._ You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“I didn’t think there was anything to tell before.” There had always been a flirtation between them. But that last op...there had been something more. “I like her, but it’s complicated. She doesn’t even work in this state.”

His mother smiled at him like he was a child. “Don’t talk yourself out of it before you’ve even begun, Phil. Call her, find out when she’s next in D.C.”

“We’ll see.”

Stevie bounding down the stairs in his Captain America backpack put an end to any further conversation between them. If he was just _Agent Coulson,_ starting something with May would be so easy. Spy relationships he could handle. Lots of mistrust, lots of sex. But he was also _Cool Dad Phil,_ and he had to think about Stevie first. Melinda May, one of the CIA’s finest, was unlikely to want a relationship with a single father. 

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go!” Phil nudged his son out the door. “Bye, Mom!”

“Bye Grandma!”

Both Coulson men waved goodbye as they left the brownstone they called home and into the waiting corvette out front. Phil made sure Stevie was securely strapped in before he began the journey to school. His son talked the whole way, telling Phil all about his teachers and his friends. He’d recently befriended a new girl who had moved to D.C. only a month or so ago. Phil couldn’t have been prouder. 

The journey to Providence Academy, a well respected private school in the D.C. area, was shorter than Phil remembered. A few of the mothers dropping their children off gave him and his car an appreciative glance as they passed. Phil just smiled as he walked his son through the school gates.

“Okay, so you’ve got your lunch,” Phil explained to his son as they arrived at his classroom. “And I’ll pick you up this afternoon, okay? How about we go to the comic book store, and then get some ice cream before dinner?”

“Awesome!” Stevie nearly knocked him off his feet with a hug. Phil held his son back just as tightly. “I love you, Dad.”

Phil ruffled his son’s hair. “I love you too, Stevie. Have a good day at school, kiddo.”

He watched his son bound into his classroom, immediately running over to talk to his friends. Stevie was a good kid, a happy kid. He hoped he hadn’t screwed him up too badly. After giving his son one more wave, Phil turned to head back to his car. That was when he saw her. _Stacy Thomas_. Well respected member of the PTA with a pinched face and platinum blonde hair; she scared Phil more than any assassins, mobsters or mad scientists he’d faced over the years.

He spun on his heel, desperate to get out of her eye line. That was when he walked straight into someone. 

“ _Shit,_ sorry! _”_ Phil held onto the brunette he had just bumped into, hoping their altercation didn’t alert Stacy. As they righted themselves, Phil got his first real look at her. Feeling fear well up inside of him, Phil’s hand snapped back towards his hip. _No gun._  “May.”

Dressed in dark clothes and a leather jacket, Melinda May looked as casual as a CIA Agent could get whilst standing inside a private school. “Coulson.”

No gun. No knife either. He knew from experience that May didn’t like guns, but that was no real comfort. She was a weapon all to herself. He didn’t know who had sent her, or why, but he knew he couldn’t let it happen here. “Whatever you want, May, I’ll do it. Just please don’t hurt my son, give me that courtesy.”

“ _Son?_ ”

“Mom?”

A tiny brunette suddenly appeared, short hair brushing her shoulders. Her uniform was creased; her blue and white tie askew. She was carrying a backpack on one shoulder and a pair of ice skates hung from her free hand. She stared up at May with deep brown eyes, and a grin that reminded him of Melinda. “Mom, I forgot my lunch money.”

May swallowed, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out several screwed up bills. “Here you go. Have a good day at school. Remember, your father’s picking you up for skating practice.”

“Okay.” The pint sized brunette gave her mother a one armed hug before racing into the classroom. 

Phil was speechless. He followed the path of the little girl, _Melinda May’s daughter,_ into the classroom where his son was. Through the classroom door, Phil watched her take a seat next to Stevie and immediately start engaging him in conversation. Swallowing, Phil swivelled his gaze back to Melinda. _Speechless_. He’d thought she was a career spy, like a more bad ass version of James Bond. But here she was. With a _daughter_. 

“Oh, Phil! There you are!

He painted on a fake grin, noting Melinda’s smirk as they both turned to greet Stacy Thomas. “Hi, Stacy, long time no see. It’s great to see you!”

The blonde squeezed his arm. “You too! It’s been _too_ long...I take it you’ve met Melinda Garner? Her daughter Skye just started in Stevie and Liam’s class.”

Before Phil could respond, Melinda interjected. “It’s May. Melinda _May_.”

Lips thinning, Stacy glared daggers at Melinda for the correction. “ _Of course._ Poor Melinda here is going through a _divorce.”_ She whispered the word like it was something dirty; something to be ashamed about. Phil didn’t think she would be doing that if she knew who Melinda was. “Anyhoo, it’s _lovely_ to see you again. I guess I’ll see you this afternoon for pick up!”

Phil offered a polite thumbs up, playing _Cool Dad Phil_ to perfection. He glanced back at Melinda, recognising the scowl she aimed at Stacy. She’d worn that same look when they’d been kidnapped by Armenian mobsters two years ago. It quickly dawned on Phil that they were now the only two parents left. It also dawned on him that he had no idea what to do next. 

“So,” Phil said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “What do parents do after they drop their kids off at school?”

Melinda crossed her arms, still glaring at the departing figure of Stacy Thomas. “Some go to work. I think _Stacy_ and her friends go for coffee to gossip about the other parents.”

Phil bobbed his head. “Huh. So what do spy parents do after they drop their kids off at school?”

She smirked. “They go get a drink.”

It was barely nine am. But a drink sounded _good._


End file.
